I Always Feel Like
by MollyCarpenter
Summary: Dean had no idea when the phrase "someone could catch us here" became the hottest thing ever.


Dean had never been into the exhibitionism thing. He'd had a couple of girls who got off on semi-publicity and he was more than happy to indulge them—hey, kinks were kinks, it wasn't like you could change what got you hot, and he'd always been willing to risk way more than minor embarrassment to make sure everyone got what they needed—but for himself? No.

Which was why he had no damn clue what was going on with him these days. Why "Keep it down, man, someone's gonna hear you" was suddenly what he murmured in the heat of the moment, when he had Cas backed against the wall or pressed to the bed or in the back of the Impala. Why his fingers twitched when he thought about taking Cas by that damn tie of his and leading him into the stacks of the library or down a nice quiet—but not _too_ quiet—alley.

It wasn't like Cas was even around that much; Dean sometimes didn't see him for a week at a stretch (though as time went on and Cas's search stayed fruitless, the intervals were getting shorter and shorter). Dean had plenty of time to drive too fast and play his music too loud and eat food that was bad for him, without anyone, angelic or otherwise, to give him the goddamned puppy eyes and make him stop. And maybe that was even where it started, that Dean didn't want to wait till he could get Cas somewhere private.

It didn't really matter.

What mattered was the noises Cas made when Dean wrapped his hand around the angel's cock and pumped it, slowly. The way his eyes got huge until he was right on the edge, and then squeezed shut. The way he shuddered when Dean leaned close to his ear and whispered, "You can do it, come on, right now before someone catches on."

The first time, in Dean's motel room in Waterville, Cas had come almost silently, just a thin whine between his teeth, and then collapsed into a shaking heap for most of an hour; Dean still didn't know _exactly _what that was about, but he'd been OK with just letting Cas grab him and hold on tight. He wasn't that bad anymore, but he still tended to look...overwhelmed. That was kind of a tame word for it; maybe "completely debauched" was better, because Cas just _didn't know_ that he was supposed to try to hold it together. When he let it go, he let everything go, if only for a few seconds, and Dean just couldn't get enough of it—or of the way he could be dressed and composed and totally on-message seconds later, if the situation called for it, so maybe _that_ was where the exhibitionism was coming from. The more chance of a cop tapping on one of the Impala's windows, the more chance Dean would get to see Cas go from mostly naked, chest heaving, bruises blooming on his throat, to his normal slightly rumpled but obviously respectable self in less time than it would have taken to say it.

So when Dean pulled into the parking lot of his latest motel somewhere north of Nowhere, Arkansas and looked up at the great big windows on the rooms, he felt a smile spread over his face that he didn't even try to hide from the clerk. It managed to linger through him reminding himself that he could get a room with a king bed, even, and that was a feat.

Not that he planned to do much with the bed but sleep.

Fortunately Cas showed up quickly when Dean called him; Dean was pleased the call went through at all, because a good half the time they didn't, and Cas was always vague about where the hell he was that he wasn't getting cell reception. Dean was only partway through his beer when the sound of wings rustled through the still air of the room and there was Cas at the foot of the bed, with his usual uncanny ability to block Dean's view of the TV—which, in this case, was perfectly fine. Dean was on his feet before Cas was done saying hello, wrapping one hand around the back of Cas's neck to pull him into a kiss.

Cas, it had to be said, caught on fast. He didn't even pause, moving smoothly to push Dean's flannel from his shoulders. They broke just long enough to get their shirts off (and Cas's coat, and Cas's jacket, and damn Cas wore too many clothes) and then Dean started to push, using his weight to direct them both towards the stretch of wall opposite that picture window. Cas went with it, which was good because Dean knew damned well he'd never move Castiel an inch if the angel didn't want to go. For all his mojo was slipping from his grasp (and Dean tried very hard not to think about that, about what Cas had given up for him), Cas was still stronger than the strongest man, and he could be immovable as a mountain when he wanted to be.

They hit the wall and Dean slid a hand down Cas's chest to palm his cock through his suit pants; Cas was hard and his breath was starting to come faster, for all that Dean was pretty sure Cas didn't actually _need_ to breathe. Dean was just starting to grin, thinking about pushing down those businesslike black pants, when suddenly Cas twisted away from Dean's weight and swung them both around till Dean was the one leaning on the wall.

"Hey," he started, but that was as far as he got before Cas leaned in to kiss him again and Dean relaxed into it. Cas's hands worked Dean's belt, popped the button of his jeans and pulled the zipper down while Dean was still trying to assemble his protest about how he had intended to show Cas a good time, here. And then Cas was working Dean's dick out of his shorts, and Dean didn't really have time to come up with _anything, _because Cas went to his knees and swallowed Dean down in one casually graceful movement.

Dean knew if he looked he'd see Cas watching him, because Cas watched pretty much everything except in the last few seconds before he came. Dean didn't want to look; he knew from experience that he wouldn't last if he did, and he wanted to enjoy this for a little while. So instead he stared out the window over the walkway outside the room, trying to focus on the streetlight on the other side of the parking lot. He could just see Cas's dark head at the bottom of his vision.

Dean had never really _learned_ how to give a blowjob; he just knew what he liked, and did that to other people. Cas, by contrast, had taken a little trial and error—but at this point, there wasn't much error anymore, because Cas never repeated a misstep and had a truly phenomenal memory for what made Dean gasp and squirm and swear, and he apparently had no gag reflex at _all_. It couldn't have been more than ten minutes later that Dean felt the orgasm start to move up on him, heat gathering in the base of his spine and his hands clenching against the wall in an effort to not just put his hands in Cas's hair and _yank_.

And that, with impeccable timing, was when the lights pulled into the lot and Dean heard voices and slamming doors as someone got out of their car.

"If they come up here..." Dean forced out, and Cas made a questioning noise that made Dean knock his head against the wall. "They come up here, they're gonna see this," Dean said, distantly amazed that he was still assembling sentences. "Gonna see you on your knees for me, Cas, you want them to see that?"

Cas didn't pull off to answer, for which Dean planned to be eternally grateful just as soon as he remembered what that meant, but he managed to convey assent anyway and Dean groaned at the vibrations. "Oh fuck," he panted. "Oh fuck, gonna see you, see how hot you are, fuck Cas—" and Cas did something that Dean was _sure_ he hadn't taught him, and Dean was gone baby gone, orgasm ripping through him like an explosion, and his knees held just long enough for Cas to get a good grip on him and keep him from falling on his face.

Dean didn't really pay much attention to the world for a few minutes, while Cas hauled him to the bed and dumped him on it; if the people from the car went past the window he didn't notice. There wasn't any shocked screaming, so Dean figured it all worked out either way.

"What was that about?" he asked, when sentences started being possible again. Cas, who was tucked up next to him in a way that Dean would not have admitted he liked with a gun to his head, smiled his understated little Cas smile.

"I thought you might like to be able to see out," he said, calmly, and Dean would have called it smug if he could have imagined Cas smug.

Dean shrugged, trying to play it off even though he knew Cas could see right through him. "Was pretty cool. Gimme a minute and it's your turn."

"I'd prefer to stay on the bed," Cas said seriously, as if he thought Dean might insist.

"Whatever you want," Dean said, and meant every word.


End file.
